Hetalian Revolution
by LunaMoonlight100
Summary: We're not humans, we are nations. We represent the virtues and flaws of our people and freedom of countries. However, we are not free, we never were, always at the will of our country leaders, whether we like or not. But no more! My fellow nations, I speak to you not as cowardly Italy anymore, but as grandson and heir of Rome: it's time for the Revolution.
1. Il mio nome e l'Italia

_Draw a circle, that's the Earth,_

_Draw a circle, that's the Earth,_

_Draw a circle, that's the Earth,_

_I am Hetalia._

These are my first words. I remember them so clearly, like I remember the darkness before it, the endless beehive in my head, making me ask so many questions.

I remember that chanting from somewhere, I just don't remember from where… Or anything else for that matter.

After my first words, here comes my first sight: metal all around me, white coats, people with glasses and chemicals, and something just in front of me… It's glass… I am behind some glass. And I can't move.

Suddenly, someone points at me. People are sucking their breaths, running up and down, shouting, and scribbling on the paper.

Why can't I move? Why can't I properly open my eyes? And why does my head hurts so much? My body feels so numb…

Suddenly, an older man with bushy beard opens the glass and I am hit with the fresh air. It feels cold… My eyes are begging me to close them, but I have to know where I am.

The man is asking me my name.

''Italia. Il mio nome è l'Italia.''

Oh yeah… My name is Italy… How could I forget something like that, am I retorted or something? I am Italy…

The man smiles widely before shouting something to the people on some language I don't understand for some reason and suddenly I'm hit with another type of air. It's strong and fluffy and tiring….

After that, it's darkness all over again.

* * *

13 years later time skip

''Italia, wake up! Wake up, idiotta!''

Loud voice banging on my door. My face stuffed in the soft pillow. The sounds of TV in the background.

Yup, it is morning and I slept in again. Mio Dio…

I just dreamt the best past-ish dream in my life! Why couldn't I have finish it, it's my day off today, I think I deserved it, but if they did woke me up then that means that something important is going on and I must help. Anything for this country, veeeee…

''Italia, get up right-a now or so help me, you'll be eating-a British food for the next-a week!''

That woke up.

I rushed to the doors and opened them, seeing the face of Marcello Dundolinni, the man responsible for me. He is very much bene, if you don't count his temper, iron fist, loud voice and strict orders I have to obey to.

''Buongiorno, signore Dundolinni. What-a lovely morning, no?'', I ask, trying to loosen him up a bit. Hey, I ate once British food, and never again! Not once, ever! It's so crumby and dry, so unlike divine aroma and rich flavor of pasta with tomato sauce, parmigiano and a glass of red wine from the south…

I suddenly feel so hungry.

''What did I tell you about-a sleeping in during-a work days?''

''Ah, that's an easy one! You said-a to never sleep in during-a work days.''

''Then why did you?!''. So hungry, so hungry… Pastaaaaaaa…

''Why did I what?''

The vein is starting to pop on his forehead, his fists are clenching tightly. It seems that he forgot to take his medications this morning again…

''Get dressed. Fretta.'', he hisses, and went for the stairs.

The second he moves away from my eyes, I rush to my window and open it, letting the sun in my room. The golden sunlight of Italian spring shined my green, white and red walls, black TV and king sized bed, bathing everything with the promises of yet another bene day.

I take a minute to enjoy the view on the Venezia, my hometown. How I love this city, with the wonderful architecture, beautiful gondolas, enchanting ragazze, divine restaurants-

Oh right! Food!

I jump towards the closet and start searching for anything that isn't green, white and red, I'm really sick of those colors… Eventually I find an old military uniform, blue colored with black shirt underneath.

… Si, si, I know that this uniform is not the proudest symbol of Italy, but that was the only thing I had that wasn't in my respectful nation's colors. A guy like me needed a change, a big one in that matter!

On my way out of the room, I salute the flag and finally come in the white hallway.

The hallway of the mansion I lived in with few governmental people was long and richly decorated with paintings and paintings of the Italian leaders through the centuries, freshly picked flowers and deep red carpet that was giving a nice contrast to the walls. Golden lanterns on the walls were my personal touch.

I stroll down the spiral stairway and let my nose lead me to the kitchen. I know, I know, I should probably go to the dining room and wait for my meal, but the cook lady is already working so hard and extra work for me is not even for discussion. As an Italian, I never let a lady work hard for me.

In the kitchen I am greeted by the appearance of signora Buonarroti, an elderly lady and the woman who raised me, making me call her 'nonna'! She is very kind and she cooks magnificently, and she was the one who taught me how to cook.

''Buongiorno, nonna!'', I greet her while kissing her in the cheeks and successfully stealing a cookie from the jar.

''Veneziano, how many times have I told-a you not-a to eat sweets before a meal?'', she asks me.

''Now was 374th time. Why?''

She only shocks her head while smiling and motioning me to sit.

''Nonna, let-a me make breakfast for- a once! You already work-a too hard…''

''Veny, as long as I'm-a cook here, you will let-a me and-a me cook only. We wouldn't-a want those dotato hands of yours getting burned, now would-a we?''

Well, that pretty much meant no argument. But I do not complain, cause her food is always so yummy!

And just as always, she pats my head gently while I sit in the chair and pushes a plate with bruschettes with cheese, mushrooms, tomatoes and a glass of orange juice. Ah, she always knows what I like!

''Grazie, nonna!''

''My pleasure, bambino. Now, eat up fast, I heard the suits needs you extra today.'', she furrows her eyebrows while passing me the message.

And here we go again…

As a personification of Northern Italy, I have a lot on my shoulders to carry, such as culture, mentality, peace and image of the nation I represent.

How can I be a personification? I can, because I was never born from a woman, but from a laboratory, in this exact age I am today 13 years ago. They say I'm 20, and I'll forever be 20, a symbol of this nation, its way of thinking and behaving. I represent the virtues and flaws of people of Italy.

It's the reason why I was created. My only name is Italy, there was no need for any other, I mean is really explanatory.

Only nonna gave me name Veneziano, meaning ''of Venice'', since I was, well, made here. It was her way of making me feel normal, cause with the government, I can't be normal.

My most important and primary job, is to obey the government of Italy. I was theirs to control like a puppet. But don't get me wrong, I like it! I love the people of Italy and I want them to be happy in this country. I love every flaw, every virtue, every characteristic about me, cause it represents the people I was created to represent, which is giving me a big sense of responsibility and happiness cause I am doing something like this.

True, I have many rules to follow, like never to: wear something that isn't Italian, eat something that's not Italian, watch, read or listen anything that's not Italian, talk to someone that isn't Italian and above all, go somewhere that isn't Italy. Then, there are the basic rules like call my bosses twice a day, get approve of everything you do, obey to them without a question, don't get into relationships above friendship, be home by 11 PM and be polite.

Basically, I'm not allowed to do anything that isn't from this country. I have no idea about any other country, are there people like me. They told me there isn't, that I'm the only one, and to never ask that question again. I obeyed.

…This is probably good time to tell you that I'm a walking stereotype. No, really! I am! I can't live without pasta, I'm a hedonist, I live for a renaissance, I love flirting with girls, and I'm probably the most cowardly person in the world.

Oh well…

Anyways, my first job today… help with the renovations of the church, then choose the new players for the football representation, menu for some fancy dinner, have an appointment on the talk show (again), then go to the opening of the new museum of modern art, pick up the boss' new car and then make the appearance on the opera tonight.

Sigh… Si… Just another day for me.


	2. Roots

''What-a is this, Italia?'', my boss asks me quietly. In his hand I see still un-wrapped copy of New York Times I secretly ordered by signora Buonarroti, to read something about the world outside my boot-shaped country.

''…Newspaper, boss?''

Mamma mia, I am dead man…

''What-a kind of newspaper, Italia?'', again he asks, again quietly.

''…American…''

''Si, mio ragazzo. American. _Not _Italian, but American. And-a what was the only rule you had to follow?'', he asks me while getting up.

I swallow hard, my whole body shaking. The only rule, but the rule that is making my life miserable! How can I possibly follow that rule?!

''T-to never watch, read, touch, talk to or even know anything or anyone… that is not Italian.'', I whisper.

SMACK!

The intensity of the swift smack that came upon my face was so strong that it threw me on the polished floor. My vision is occupied by the brown leather shoe my boss wore, and then my collar is roughly pulled up so I could see his cold black eyes full of rage. His bold head is red as a tomato.

''ONE RULE, YOU STUPIDO! WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR-A YOU TO FOLLOW ONE RULE?! HOW MANY-A TIMES WILL YOU BREAK IT, HUH?! HOW MANY-A TIMES?!''

''Scusate, scusate mi!'', I cry while he shakes my head and he smacks me again and again.

''HOW MANY-A TIMES?!''

''B-b-b-but, capo, this is-a my first time I broke it!''. Please no more smack, please no more…

The smacks indeed stopped. My eyes are still shut so I don't see his hard, fat palms meeting my skin and to mostly prevent more tears coming down my face. I hate beatings like this.

The sudden release of my collar made me open my eyes though, only to see something I never witnessed before.

The face of my boss, the man who ruled over me (not just as country, but as a person) with the iron fist, was red, but his eyes… I'll never forget the look at them. Wide open, cautious, full of… panic. Why was he panicking?

He cleared his throat and fixed his tie while going towards the mini bar in the corner.

''Si, si… This was your first time… Don't-a ever break the rule ever again, you hear me, Italia? Ever. In case you do… I solemnly promise you that you will not leave your room for as long as you exist. Capiche?''

''…S-s-si… capo.''

* * *

I watch nonna pack her things in the small brown leather suitcase, her train ticket on the night table like an invitation for the exile. I knew she was being fired cause of helping me, cause of all those things doing for me, like giving me a human name, telling me about other cultures, being too kind to me, allowing me pretty much everything ( I admit, my charm did help a little, but you can't blame, I'm an Italian)…

''Ti prego pardonami, nonna.'', I whisper, too afraid to look at her in the eyes.

She stops with the packing and approach me. Truth to be honest, I expected another slap, cause I deserved it big time.

''Oh mio caro Veneziano… Do not-a blame yourself. All I did is what I wanted-a to do, and I don't-a regret it. Besides, after what you did-a for me, this-a was the least I could-a do.''

Huh? What I did for her? Did she mean on those flowers I gave her on her birthday? Nah, I give her flowers every week, she was so kind to me!

''Nonna, what did I do for you?''

Her gaze suddenly went aside, and then up. I follow her gaze and I see a camera. Oh, I understand. She doesn't want the bosses to know!

And I know this how?

She suddenly hugs me and presses her face into my shoulder, making me automatically hug her as well. All too familiar scent of garlic and tomatoes fills my nose, and I am on the verge of crying again.

''Remember , no matter what-a question you may have, roots are the answer.'', she whispers and kisses my cheeks, then grabs her suitcase and ticket and she's off.

''Arrivederci, Veneziano Italia, mio caro ragazzo. Dio ti aiuti.''

And just like that, another lock on my cell doors was locked.

* * *

_Hey you! Yes, you! You, the one who are reading this! _l

l

l

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V


	3. Canvas of white or Ponte dei Seospiri

_ Don't fill him in, don't let him see_  
_ To be the good boy he always have to be_  
_ Conceal, don't reveal, don't let him know_

* * *

No POV

''Sir, this getting out of control! We had to put him through the procedure twice this month! Twice! And no matter how high dosage we use, that pasta fool keeps getting his memories back and trying to escape!'', panicking female voice was shouting at the phone, with the Italian government figures at the table around.

''_What is his boss there for_?!''

''That, sir, is for you to ask him yourself.''

''_Pass him to me, miss 6_.''

Said miss 6, tall, middle aged woman with stern face and thick red hair passed her slick black phone to the sweaty Italian, while others kept their gazes down.

''Buongiorno, signor 0… It's an honor to-a finally-''

''_What's that I hear? Our little painter managed to almost escape again?''_

''…Listen, sir, we're trying the best we can! B-b-but we-a cannot-a understand how is he getting-a immune so much!'', Italy's boss desperately tried to explain while rubbing his neck.

''_Have you forgotten whose grandson he is?''_

There was a pause while it downed to the sweaty man and people around him started to cringe.

''No, signor. How could-a we?''

''_Listen you dickhead… Italy Veneziano is the heir of the most powerful Empire of the Old World. Have you forgotten what is he capable of, what he represents?! Have you forgotten what __he__ will do if his memories return?!''_

''No, signor, we didn't!''

''_Then do not let him get even near to him past! I don't care what has to be done, just don't let him remember! Have you heard me, you asshole?!''_

''Yes, sir!''

''_Pass me miss 6.''_

His hand was shaking while passing the phone towards the redhead, who took the phone and started to talk fast on foreign language, her back turned towards the Italians.

Meanwhile, they all got their bodies around the sweaty boss, who stared at the paper in front of him. His whole body shaking from fear and panic, he quickly got a sip of water and tried to calm down.

''Signor… what are we to do?''

''… I cannot-a keep dragging this-a away… Otherwise signor 0 will ruin me… All of us… Ruin us…'', he muttered incredulously.

He took a few deep breaths and stood up, his posture now tall, stern and confident. Other copied him.

''Signor Marcello, you will-a bring Italia Veneziano tonight in the Vault. Signor Marco, tell-a the head scientist to prepare the necessary things. Italia will never see the lights of the day again, having his brain washed or not.''

* * *

I stare at the white canvas in front of me, paint brush in my hand. For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to put a single dot on it, let alone a line, let alone the portrait of the view from my window.

…Maybe cause I don't want to stain yet another plain white canvas with the assortment of colors in my left hand. I always was attracted to the color white.

Si, si, I know for the typical stereotype and my most common flaw of Italian – white flag always with you when going into battle. But it's not cause of that, it's cause it's something new, it's a start, it's a brand new beginning! Every great painting was once just a white, plain canvas, right?

Or maybe it's cause I see this white canvas as me… I'm just a plain, white canvas with no real purpose but being painted on with colors others want.

When was the time they told me to do what I wanted to do? I would always so what they wanted me to, when they wanted me to, talk what they wanted me to, wear, eat, drink what they wanted me to…

Is that what I am? Just a canvas?

I get up and look at the Venice. This is a city I couldn't love more, this is my home… My heart is telling me so, and I believe that, yet… I want to leave. To escape.

I'm not even a canvas, I'm a prisoner. I'm the country that is imprisoned! I'm not a free country!

I'm-

*Knock knock*

I turn my head away to the doors, seeing them open and I see signor Marcello with two uniform guys behind him. Why would he bring them?

''Italia, we've received the warning call, the terrorists are on their way to get-a you. Therefore you are being transported to the Vault for a few days.''

The terrorists again?! No, no, no, no not again, why do everyone wants to kill me, I'm too young and still a virgin, I can't-a die!

I quickly grab my suitcase and start to grab my clothes when the arm of my boss stops me.

''We-a don't- a have time, Italia. Just follow us.''

No time for packing my clothes? At all? Is it that serious?

''If-a you say so, capo.'', I say and get out from the room.

However, there is something in the back of my head, something that doesn't make me feel safe while walking in front of them, or walking out of the mansion, or getting into the car.

Why do I feel like going to the guillotine?!

''For how long will I stay in the Vault this-a time, capo?'', I ask from the back sit, the two guards sitting on both of my sides.

He is not answering.

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews on the previous chapter, you guys! You rock. You 8 people who are following this story know how to recognize a good masterpiece when you see one, so feel proud! _

_Yeah, the song on the very top is my version of 'Let it go', made up specially for the grandson of Roman Empire. If ya all want to listen a good male version and pretend it's Italy singing it, then go check Let it go - (male pop version) by Daniele Carta Mantiglia. Won't regret it!_

_Review and you'll get next chapet faster! Five reviews by a chapter = new chapter every second day._


	4. Runaway

The Vault is exactly what it's name stays for; an underground base for keeping the important figures safe in case of threat, camouflaged by a glorious monument of some random group of Italian soldiers with the flag, which is also the secret keyhole for the tunnel beneath it.

As we get out of car, I see my boss more nervous than usual, those terrorists must've had scare him greatly…

Then I see another car approaching, no, a van… White van with no markings at all. From it are coming out men in lab coats… Very familiar men…

The nausea hits me hard while looking at the man with bushy beard and heavy glasses; he doesn't look like an Italian at all… And yet, he seems familiar, on which that feeling in the back of my head is right now practically screaming.

''Capo… What-a is going on? Who are those-a people in lab coats?'', I ask my boss, who is on his way down the tunnel.

''Just-a some people that-a will help you be safer, Italia. Now-a follow me.''.

The guards gently push me towards the entrance of the tunnel, making my feeling of danger even more obvious. Something is telling me not to follow him, not to go down there, but… I have to obey. He is my boss.

_Duck, Itaria-san. Quick!_

I stop in my tracks. What was that?

''Italia? Why did you stop? I said to follow me!''

I look around me, cause I was sure someone just told me to…

_DUCK!_

I bend my knees and drop down on the ground, just to feel something cold above me flying with great speed.

''What the- AAA-''

I look up. What the… Oh mios dio…

My boss' body is… crystallized?! His hand is sticking out of the greenish blue glass with wide open eyes, looking almost frozen. Next thing I see, is panicked people running around and into the van, before it explodes like in those movies.

I look behind, only to see my guards missing. No, wait, they are not missing, they are… Fighting the lab coated men? A cap fell from one's head, revealing blonde slicked to the back hair, fighting the armed man with his bare fists!

The other guard suddenly appears next to me, without a cap too, so I can see the face I never saw in my life! His eyes were so… small! No, not small but… like very small almonds, beneath bowl-like black hair.

''Itary-san, we need to get going. Quick.'', he says to me in the strangest accent I've ever heard. This man isn't Italian, that I'm sure.

That means… He is a terrorist!

''I surrender, I surrender, just don't-a kill me or hit-a me in the face or stomach, or even worse between my legs cause that-a would be soooo painful! Please don't-a harm I'm too young-''

_I'm not a terrorist nor your enemy, Itary-san! Prease, do not be afraid._

That voice in my head again! Why do I hear that voice all of the sudden?!

''Oh, I aporogize. I did not got use to this new abirity of mine.'', the guard says to me while helping me get up. That's when I notice a strange, thin sword on his hip. I've never seen sword like that…

''So… you are not-a going to kill me?'', I ask him.

''No, of course not. We are here to save you, ord friend.''

Friend? Did he just call me his friend? Old friend?! Wait, save me? What in the name of divine pasta is going on here?!

''Everything wirr be exprained soon, Itary-san, but prease, you must come with us! The time is not on our side!'', he motions me to follow him into the forest, but I still stay still on my spot. Not cause I wanted but, cause I _knew _I could trust him. How could I trust someone I don't even know?

But then again, he said they are here to save me… How did they know I'm like a prisoner here? And just how did he read my thoughts?!

''ITALY! GET YOUR ASS MOVING OR NO PASTA FOR A WEEK!''

That makes me run after the two guards. And as fast as I am (and I'm _really_ fast), I soon end up between the two of them. I can hear a snicker.

''You will never change, will you, tauschen?'', the blonde asks me while we were leaving the monument surrounded by passed out and beaten bodies.

I did not answer, looking at the two of them while we run. Why do I feel lightness and… relief? Why do I know I can trust them?!

Suddenly, the blonde stops running, as well as almond eyes. I stop as well, trying to catch my breath why they were looking around, almost as they expected someone.

But I got impatient; I need some answers, right now!

''W-who are-a you?'', I ask them.

''What, you mean to tell me you don't recognize your Axis fellows? Just how strong dosage were they giving you, macaroni wanker?'', new voice said.

I turn around to see two more blonds coming out of the forest; again none of them looked like an Italian.

First one has messier, more crude-like hair and the bushiest eyebrows I've ever seen, and dressed pretty crude, while the other was a complete opposite, with his silky long blonde hair and _really _good-looking cloak ( As an Italian, it's my duty to be true to fashion), both of them with smug smiles on their faces.

Suddenly the long haired one runs up to me and embraces in the tight hug! Again, it doesn't bother me, I even hug him back. Hugs are always nice, ve…

''Mon petit frère, how I missed you, oh just how glad I am you're not hurt!'', he cries. Wait that language! It sounded familiar…

''He still doesn't remember, you frog. You're probably scaring him.'', the crude one scoffs, making the long haired one to release me and to start pounding him angrily.

''You batartd! How can you claim my petite Italie doesn't remember his big brother!''

Big brother?!

Big.

Brother…

''Francia!? You're France?'', I ask incredulously.

France as in… a country? A walking embodiment of country like me?! There are others like me?! And did he just call himself my big brother? And how did I know his name?

Well, that would make sense, in a way…

''Oui, oui, zat's right! You do remember me, after all! But then again, who wouldn't remember this beauty I possess, hm?'', he swoons with shiny eyes.

''Italy, you really should save questions when we come to the hideout, because I need to concentrate… And cause we have company.'', the crude one said, his green eyes suddenly glowing as well as his hands.

The last thing I see before the light green light engulf me is the terrified and red face of my boss, running towards me with the gun and shouting after me.

After that... It's darkness.

* * *

_Batard means 'bastard' on french. _

_Francia is France on Italian._

_Yes, you finally know why this story is sci-fi genred. Japan can read thoughts! And frankly, that suits him soooo much! I have powers for Italy, UK, USA, Iceland, Canada, Spain, Lithuania, Poland, Russia, China, Romano, Germany and Switzerland. **But I need help with finding superpowers for France and Nordic 5, so pllllease help me, I am running out of time and the epic battle chapter is coming along fast!**_

_Thanks! Grazie! Merci! Hvala! _

_p.s to my favorite Italian reader, thanks for reviewing! _


	5. Insert title here

No POV

The dark, small office is tainted with dreadful silence and steady breathing of the man behind the desk, his hands folded in front of his nose while looking at the mortified soon to be ex-prime minister of Italy.

''I gave you the warning… and just three hours later, what do you do?'', monotone voice leaks through the air.

''…''

''I asked you something, prime minister.''

''I let-a Italia Veneziano get away.''

More silence fills the office, which ends up with a exasperated sigh from the Mr. 0.

''You let the most dangerous of them get away, the heir of sheer power and the 'leader' of those blasted _embodiments… _'', he spats while taking something in his hand. Italian prime minister doesn't even flinch, he saw this coming.

''… who think they are what make _our _countries great and running… Who were here and in control far, far too long, outliving us, considering themselves gods even…''

Quiet sounds can be heard, coming from the small object that the man holds in his hand.

''…letting their emotions make the decisions, calling each other brother while their people are in wars… Making _us_, ordinary people, obey to _them_ like they are our bosses, not we theirs… Well, that's why we did that to them, right? Considering the fact that we cannot kill them like we should've done!'', Mr. 0 yells in rage while blasting a bullet towards the prime minister, who falls from the chair and moans in pain when the bullet hits his shoulder.

''S-s-signor 0…''

''AND YOU LET THE ONE WHO ACTUALLY DECIDED TO FINALLY TAKE CHARGE GET AWAY, THE ONE WHO STARTED ALL OF THIS, HIM. AND. HIS. BLASTED. BLOOD!''

Every word is followed by another gun shot, but all of them in place that wouldn't kill the man, yet it would make him hurt.

Mr. 0 kneeled down and took the bloodied man by his collar, sneering in his face.

''His grandfather afforded hell to my ancestor, my precious noble ancestor, and destroyed my family line! And when my grandfather tried to make the new Roman Empire out of that fucking asshole, do you know what he did, hm? He stopped him and again ashamed my family line! Well, not this time, not again! I swore to make his existence miserable, and now thanks to you, I cannot…''

''P-p-p-p-p-please, signo-o-o-or…''

''No, amico… No.''

BLAM!

* * *

I think I'm dead... Si... I'm definitely dead... Oh how I wish to be un-dead, but you can't go against God's wishes, right?

How do I know I'm dead? Well, after everything I saw, I must be dead, that green light killed me, right? Those men killed me after all, and right now my head is in so much pain I can't even open my eyes properly! At least I have this comfy pillow to relax my pain…

Wait!

If I'm dead… Shouldn't I be released from all the pain?

…I'm not dead, am I?

Then what were that green light, and those people, and all of that?!

''Is he awake yet?'', I hear a voice somewhere near me. I recognized it, it was that slick blonde.

''Non.''

''Well, we can't blame the fellow, after all that _was _his first teleportation on such long distance…'', that crude one said. Teleportation? Like in those movies, with those huge tubes where you enter then you appears somewhere far? But there weren't any tubes…

Suddenly I hear a chuckle.

''What's so funny, Germany?''

Germany!

Germany… That's f-familiar… Why do I suddenly have the need to hug something?

''Look at him. 13 years and he haven't changed one bit.''

Haven't changed? But I _am_ 13 years old… Were these guys created in a lab like me? They called each other so far France and Germany, those are countries…

But my boss told me I was the only one! Unless he… lied to me. Actually, that would make a lot of sense, with keeping me away from the rest of the world, but why? And if so, how do they know about me?

_Itary-san, you may open your eyes now. I know you are not sreeping_, that calm, weird voice again.

Never the less, I obey to it.

I am in the white room, full of white beds and medical equipment, but strangely, no windows. The walls are bare and the floor plain wooden. Those guys from earlier are surrounding my bed.

I look down and I notice my jacket and shirt were taken off, and now on my arm are sticked those wires I have no idea what for.

''Wercome back, Itary-san.'', the black haired man bows his head to me, making the blondes turn to my direction.

''Italy! Finally!''

''I do apologize, I should've had warn you about that…''

''T'was about time.''

I just stare at them, not really sure how to react. They sure seem happy to see me awake, that's good, right? And again, I _feel_ like I can trust them, like I'm meant to meet them. But then again, why do I have that feeling? I always had a good instinct and would usually follow it, but I was told so many times never to do anything with anyone that isn't Italian, and these guys were NOT Italians. B-but still...

''W-who are you?'', I ask.

''Oh that's right, we haven't introduced ourselves, have we?'', the crude one say. He instantly straightens his back and offers me his hand.

Crude and formal, and somehow I'm getting that feeling I always have while eating British food.

''I am United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or Britain shortly. I am embodiment/personification of Britain.''

…I swear I was only kidding.

''I am Japan, the personification and embodiment of country of Japan. It's preasure to meet you once again.''

Japan? Oh yeah, my boss did say the Japanese people had weird eyes and were really quiet and shy.

''You already know me, your big brother France, hon, hon, hon…''

That laughter… also familiar and some sort of alarm.

''Und I am Germany, ze personification and embodiment of ze great Germany, and your good freund.''

My friend? Why do they keep calling themselves my friends when I've never met them before?! I would most certainly remember other people like me…

_That, actually is the reason you don't remember us._

''Please stop-a entering my head, it's-a really disturbing and-a creepy and-a I have a feeling I am just-a an open book and I hate when other people read-a over my shoulder!'', I cry to Japan. Seriously, I really hate it, it really is creepy!

He quickly backs away with guilt and panic in his eyes while bowing to me.

''Prease excuse me, I have a hard time controrring this abirity, in fact I can't contror it at arr, even though I'm trying very hard! This is so dishonorabre!'', he spills the words with that same quiet tone but I can feel distress.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder, making me turn around and see Germany sitting in a chair next to my bed.

''You'll have to excuse him, he, well, we're all new to these abilities of ours. I'm guessing you're too.''

''What abilities?! Me-a too, what?! What-a is going on, I can't-a handle this anymooooooore!''

That little outburst of mine makes the four of them look each other and exchange the facial expressions I can't understand.

''Um, Italy… Do you know who you are?'', Britain asks me.

''Si, I'm Italy, the personification of Italy!''

''And how old are you?''

''…20, but-a actually 13. But-a how Japan can-a read my thoughts?!'', I ask him in return. Britain starts to begin the sentence, but he then shuts up and sigh.

''It's a tad bit complicated, Italy. You need to know a lot more before that information.''

''And the one who will tell you 'a lot more' is the one who is sure to come here any minute, and unfortunately, we must bid our adieus to you.'', France said while getting up from his chair and going to the doors, motioning others to follow him.

''Oh, and if 'he' starts to say 'hero' too many times, feel free to chop him, alright?''

Germany slapped me on my shoulder before getting up himself.

''Just know one thing, Italy: whatever your bosses told you during these 13 years, whatever you believed in… Was nothing but a lie.'', he says before closing the doors, leaving me alone in the white hospital room.

What in the name of pasta is going one here?

* * *

_So, this is the last chapter on my winter break... If you haven't guessed who will be the one who will explain everything to Italy, then off you go to the first ep of the first season! _

_Your comments are what keeps this story going so please do comment more and the next chapter is for 2 days!_

_In case I get 8 comments, I will wrote powers of all characters in the next chapter. All of them! C'mon, it's cheap!_


	6. Abilities

America (Hero) – super strength (was there any better?)

England (Sorcerer) – magic that actually works and it's used for pretty much everything

China (Changeling) – ability to turn into dragon

Russia (Russia) – ability to make anyone's fear come into life

France (Handsome face) - crystallization

Germany (General) – ability to armor his body with steel

Japan (Quiet one) – mind reading

Prussia (Loudmouth warrior) – lightning

Romano (Temper hero) – ability to copy any ability of his choice from anybody

Spain (Optimist) – solar power

Iceland (Bomb) – walking unstable volcano

Sealand (Hacker) – ability to control electronic

Denmark (Fighter) – water control

Norway (Protector) - illusions

Finland (Sniper) – ability to make bombs from anything he touches

Lithuania (Shield) – ability to create protecting barrier in the range of 100 yards

Bosnia (Spy) – ability to change his body into smoke

Switzerland (Armory) – ability to change any part of his body into any weapon of his choice

Poland (Crossdresser) – ability to change himself into phoenix

Austria (Conductor) – able to control people's bodies with music

Canada (Spy) – invisibility

Romania (Silent one) – ability to control shadows

Greece (Oracle) – ability to see future

Liechtenstein (True sight) – lie detector

Hungary (Warrior) – ability to duplicate

Italy (Painter/Leader) – ability to bring anything he paints on air itself to life

* * *

_I apologize for not uploading when I promised, I was in a hospital for a few days, but I'm home now, and giving you what I promised!_

_So, what do you think? Aren't these powers cool?! _

_Italy's powers is my pride and joy, you'll see what I mean very soon! Just keep reviewing and this story will only get better! I even out my own country here, Bosnia, which is needed in Hetalia cause we're like, one awesome country! _

_Greek is oracle cause of the whole 'Greek oracle of Delfs' thing from the myths. Canada's powers is selfexplainatory. _

_Till the next time!_


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